o' his People did his Wrath provoke,
He meant to curb them with an Iron Yoak.
Yet do I think, nay more than think, the Cause
(But here his passion made some little pause,
Till sighing, at the last he thus went on)
Why my Great Father does disown his Son;
They say I am but of a spurious Brood,
My Mother being of Ignoble Blood:
For _Jocoliah_ was but mean by Birth,
Tho' with the King she mix'd her baser Earth.
I was begotten in my Father's Flight,
E'er to the Crown he had obtain'd his Right:
And since I from his Favor did decline,
He has declar'd her but his Concubine.
This has the Hopes rais'd of _Eliakim_,
And _Amaziah_'s Crown design'd for him;
My Hopes are lost, and I do think it fit,
I should to God, Right, and the King submit;
But yet, wise _Hushai_ know, I still do find,
My Birth has not so much debas'd my mind,
To make me stoop to low or mean desires;
I feel my Father's Royal Blood inspires
My depress'd Soul, wipes off th' ignoble Stain,
Renders me apt, or not unfit to reign.
Of _David_'s Royal Blood, my self I own,
And with it never can disgrace the Throne.
Tho' my bold Spirits, mounting thus, do fly
Towards the Noble hight of Sovereignty,
And that I feel my Father's Blood to rowl
Through every Vein and animate my Soul;
Yet so much Loyalty is sown within
My Breast, I would not Empire gain with Sin:
For when my ambitious Thoughts begin to roam,
Their Forces, I with that soon overcome.
Tho' to God's Laws, and to the King's I yield,
To my known Foes I would not leave the Field.
I'd not be trampl'd on by sordid Feet,
Nor take Affronts from ev'ry one I meet:
I'd give no Cause they should my Courage doubt,
Nor to Rebellion push the vulgar Rout,
I to my Father would give no Offence,
Nor while he lives, lay to the Crown Pretence;
But since Life's sweet, by Wisdom I'd keep mine,
From _Baalites_ Hate, and _Eliakim_'s Design:
This my wise Friend, is my chief Business now,
To take some Sage and good Advice from you.

_Hushai_ in Silence heard the Prince, and weigh'd
Each word he spake, then to him thus reply'd;
Great Prince, th' Almighty has to you been kind, }
Stamp'd Graces on your Body and your mind, }
As if he for your Head a Crown design'd. }
We shall not search into Fates Secret Womb,
God alone knows the things that are to come;
But should you never sit on _David_'s Throne,
'Tis better to deserve than wear a Crown.
Of Royal Blood, and of great Birth you are,
Born under some benign au